See Me Through
by Tarallynne Moon
Summary: The Final Battle occurs, and all is turned on end! Written for wave 7 of the Dusk-to-Dawn HPSS Fuh-Q-Fest, so warnings for slash and major angst between Severus Snape and Harry Potter


**Title:** See Me Through  
**Author** Tarallynne Moon  
**Rating:** R for imagery  
**Pairing:** Severus Snape/Harry Potter

**Summary:** The Final Battle occurs, and everything is turned on end!  
**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. No Profit is made.  
**Feedback:** Please drop me a line at to tell me what you think!  
**Beta:** Knightmare! Shade, my love, thank you sooo much for going over this so wonderfully for me!  
**Written For/Archive:** Part of the From Dusk till Dawn Severus Snape/Harry Potter Fuh-Q-Fest at http/  
**Written For/Challenge:** "No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent." -- John Donne

"I love you."

It fell from his lips, unguarded, before he was able to stop it. What he would have given to take those three little words back! What he would give for that one moment to vanish, to disappear and leave him standing empty handed and fearless once more instead of the suddenly shaking mass he had become.

And then… then, that was it.

Alarms rang and bells sounded dutifully as The Final Battle began. Dementors and Death Eaters and Order members swarmed Hogwarts Grounds, and he couldn't have been happier that those simple, perfect words had slipped from his parted lips.

He'd often wonder what his friends would think. The noble Gryffindors and their solid beliefs and structured ethics and black and white morals and their perfect bloody sturdy foundation… what would they think of him? What would they think of their friend if he was neither black nor white in essence but a beautiful shade of grey.

That beautiful silver hue that he longed to hold in his arms, at times like these. At all times, really. But what would he do of his friends' thoughts? That may never matter. Not here. Not unless they make it through this. The War.

Once it's over, everything will change. Once it was over, would anything matter anymore? That is… if it ever ends.

Someone fell, he saw them. Saw the cloak and that perfect blaze of green… Hogwarts robes. A student, then. He didn't know who, and had no time to tell. They had to keep moving, had to survive, had to go on no matter what. But if it were Harry? Hair was matted with blood and dirt and grime and body was curled in upon itself; there was no telling whom the body had belonged to. No time now. It wasn't Harry. It wasn't. He knew it wasn't. If it were, the Death-Eaters would reign victorious, would they not? Maybe no one had noticed… NO. It wasn't Harry.

He had to believe it. It had to be true. In times of war, one does what one can to survive. And he had to. He was. Surviving. Barely. And he had to keep moving. It wasn't Harry.

Severus had never expected to be in the position he was now. But then, did any one ever really expect to fall in love like that? Especially with a pupil… a student… a hero. No, he fell in love with Harry.

Severus never dared to hope that Harry would ever return his affections. Unwanted. But that didn't change the way he felt, and it hadn't changed the way Harry claimed to feel for him, also. It was the rest of the world that stood in there way. Nothing in this world is accomplished without passion.

Late at night, they'd dream of each other, of finally being together. They couldn't… not now. Not with this war hanging over both their heads, desperate to fall and crush them both. They had lives, roles they were expected to fill. But that would be over soon enough. It would. It had to be.

The brilliant emerald blaze of 'Avada Kedavra' lit the soot filled morning sky. The chill of blood loss and death and the desperate, gasping cries of pain filled even the lifeless bodies. It was so hard… so hard to see, to breathe in such violence, such loss. Keep moving; he had to keep moving. Dodge another curse, another dagger just barely missing the side of his face as the soot and still-night sky created a momentary mask of confusion for his escape. So many fallen. Still falling. So many left… and still so many gone.

He had to keep moving, had to find Harry. Another ray of emerald light shot out if his wand, clutched tightly between numb fingers, ending another nameless Death Eating life. Had to find Voldemort. Then he'd find Harry. Or a body. Not a body… Harry. He was still alive. He knew it. He felt it.

And nothing else mattered. Not the pain in his side from running and running and dodging and cursing and running and needing to find him. Not the breathless burn in his lungs or the steady flow of blood streaming eerily from the side of his head, or the dirt and soot and sand and grass and blood and spit and sweat that covered his body. He had to find Harry.

There was another stream of blinding green light, another bead of sweat that fell in his eyes, another drop of blood hitting the ground in a silent splatter. Then another stream of light. And another. And then he saw him fall.

Voldemort. Falling quickly to the blood-splattered grass canvas and painting reds and blues and blacks with his own unmoving, lifeless body. It was done. Over. Everything else stopped, except the smile on that perfect, emerald-eyed face so near to his own. It was finally over. Their roles had been played and they were finally free.

He wasn't too late.


End file.
